


venus is bright

by wolfgraham



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Incest, Intersex, M/M, Mother/Son Incest, Omega Will Graham, Parent/Child Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Side Will/Matt, Tags to be added, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgraham/pseuds/wolfgraham
Summary: Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he'll set new rules, boundaries. He'll tidy up Hannibal's room and give him the talk, and download Matefinder on his phone. But is it so bad? So bad to wish that the world outside the two of them would just disappear and leave them be?Will is Hannibal's mom.(More mommy Will for the hungry, this time with plot!)
Relationships: Matthew Brown/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ⚠️ Warning for descriptions of past non-con between Will and Hannibal's father this chapter.

1.

The floorboards creak as Will navigates his way through the dark and past the living room. He doesn’t bother to flip on the lights. He knows the little house like the back of his hand. The same colored carpets where he took his first steps and learned his ABCs, his initials carved into the base of the wallpaper when crayons had eventually lost charm; the only scrap his dad bothered leaving him when the alcohol ate his liver. When he found out about Will, three months into pregnancy, not a year after presenting Omega, the bottles kept rising and rising until Will could barely see the floor. Whenever anyone asks what happened to Noah Graham, Will likes to say he drowned. Drowned himself in the bottle, that is. If it wasn't for the alcohol, it would have been a boating accident, and really, it's none of their damned business.

Will stands on the porch barefooted and watches the stars dance through the branches in the distance, the creek is not too far behind. The door squeals on its hinges and his son is there, tilting his head up and trying to find what his mother finds so interesting at twelve forty in the morning: Venus? Orion's belt? The rustle of trees in the chilled autumn wind? "Mama?"

"Hey, baby. Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Will smiles and leans into him with a soft purr.

"Shouldn't you? I heard you get up. I was worried you were sleepwalking again." Hannibal tangles his fingers together with his mother's and buries his nose in his scent gland for comfort. "Venus is bright tonight."

"Yeah. It is. Pretty, isn't it?" Will sighs, his shoulders sagging as he breathes in his son's preferred brand of shampoo and ambiguous smelling pheromones. Not quite beta, not quite Omega. He won't know for sure for a while, but it's not hard to guess when all the signs are already present in the way he dotes so possessively over Will. Alphas don't present until fifteen; they mature slower than Omegas. While Omegas are usually developed by the age of twelve, like Will was. 

"I've always preferred Venus." Hannibal hums, his nose brushing the place where Will should bear a mark, but doesn't. "Beautiful."

"I didn't mean to wake you, baby. Couldn't sleep. One of those nights, you know?" Will watches the way his son's hair stirs from his breath, the wind jostling one of Will’s dark curls into view. "I'm okay. Mama’s okay."

"You didn't wake me," Hannibal assures him with a gentle nuzzle that floods Will's chest with warmth and love. "If you're okay, I'm okay."

It used to hurt. He has all the likeness of his father, and nothing of Will, despite Will being left to carry the burden. The same sandy blonde hair, eyes that gleam the color of whiskey to a deep maroon in just the right light, and all his sharp features. He's the spitting image of Dr. Lecter, and, God, it had hurt. Will wonders if the guilt will ever leave.

Hannibal is thirteen now, the same age Will had been then. It was just three days shy of Will’s birthday when everything went to hell. His first wellness checkup at the Omega clinic was a forty minute drive from where he lived, still lives, but back then Omegan resources were slim and sex education was nonexistent. The father of his son was filling in for a fellow physician while he was in town for a doctor’s conference. Will remembers the sweat from his nerves at being so closely scrutinized by an older, more mature Alpha, and the fresh drops of slick on his thighs; he'd never been around any Alpha long enough to understand how to act, everything had been new to him, frightening. Dr. Lecter had taken one whiff of Will's barely-budding pheromones, and decided to hike up his gown and have him on the examination table, promising sweet nothings in his ear. Afterward, he had Will swear not to tell anyone, because it was his fault for smelling like that. He wanted it. And Will believed him. Dr. Lecter had ripped away his innocence, left him with child before he'd even conceived the meaning of responsibility, aside from wiping up his father's mess and turning in his homework on time, and all he'd offered for it was a strawberry flavored lollipop. 

Will never saw Dr. Lecter after that. He figured when the conference had ended, he'd left the city and just up and disappeared. Maybe he was worried Will would tattle on him. But even the two private detectives he'd hired on a desperate, drunken whim at the cusp of twenty couldn't tell him anything. It was as if the man never existed, though Will had all the proof he needed bundled up in his arms on a tiny porch overlooking rural Louisiana.

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Not like it used to. Though, it took a long time to piece himself back together when looking at Hannibal, the way he quirks his neck and scrutinizes the world with an almost clinical curiosity is like having one foot stuck in the past. He’s intelligent and bright, far beyond his age, but he’s still a kid. His kid. Not his father. And Will loves him more than anything in the world.

They stand there, Hannibal huffing softly into his neck as Will scent marks him with a nuzzle at his temple and languid little drags of his palms and wrists to his back. “You’ll catch a cold,” Hannibal says, eventually, tucking the loose curl behind his mother’s ear. "Where's your robe?"

He'd left his robe draped over the sofa, slippers at the edge of the bed. It is cold, standing in nothing but a scant white nightgown while the cold front barrels through, but he can hack it. Will grins and ruffles his son's damp hair. “You’re the one with the wet hair, mister.”

“That’s a myth.” Hannibal retorts, lips tugging into a sly smile.

“Oh?” Will crosses his arms and raises his brow. “Then don’t come crawling to me when you get the sniffles.” He chuckles, eyes soft with affection. “Come on. Let’s go inside before we both catch colds, ‘kay? You have school tomorrow and I have a g-damn list of things to do.”

“Mama.” 

Hand hovering over the door knob, Will turns to look at his son. Hannibal lifts up on his tiptoes and places a warm, lingering kiss on his wind-chapped lips. He’s up to Will’s breast now, and growing faster overnight—soon, he’ll be taller than Will. The hairs on his arms stand up, and Will’s grip tightens over the knob, fingers paling before falling to his side in surprise. The kiss is wrong, deep down he knows it is, but he doesn’t raise a finger, because it’s easier to just brush it off and sweep it under the rug with the rest of Hannibal’s childish whims. It’s longer, deeper than what’s considered acceptable between a mother and his child. Hannibal’s lips are pressed too hard against his, their breaths mingle together, and their noses bump. He kisses Will the way a lover would. 

_Where in the world did you learn that?_ Will wants to ask—to chide—but the question dies in his throat, swallowed by his son’s over-confident lips.

“I love you, mama.” Hannibal steps back and grins so wide and innocent, Will doesn’t have the heart to rip it from him. It’s his fault, afterall, he's to blame for spoiling him. Hannibal still demands he sleep in his nest and suckle his scent gland whenever he pleases, and Will is too soft with guilt to deny him. It gets Will thinking, and it pains him to admit, but maybe it’s about time Hannibal had a proper Alphan figure in his life. A dominant presence to help steer him in the right direction. 

Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he'll set new rules, boundaries. He'll tidy up Hannibal's room and give him the talk, and download _Matefinder_ on his phone. But is it so bad? So bad to wish that the world outside the two of them would just disappear and leave them be? Together. Without time or constructs to rip his son from his chest and muddy this moment.

“I… love you, too, baby.” Will swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile, lips tingling with residual warmth. Hannibal opens the door for him and waits for him to enter first, before locking it behind them and weaving their fingers together.

In bed, Will listens to the wind chime rattle out a melody in rhythm with Hannibal’s slow breathing and curls around him, nose nestled in his soft hair, shielding him from the draft in the window. 

_Selfish. I’m selfish, aren’t I?_


	2. Chapter 2

2.

  
  
Tomorrow turns into days, a week, a year, and before Will knows it, Hannibal is turning fourteen. His soft, lean puppy fat gives way to the shape of solid muscles, his canines curving into the sharp points of a predator, and with it, a sense of urgency beneath Will’s ribs. In terms of sleeping arrangements and Will’s dating pool, nothing has changed. He wakes in his nest with Hannibal in his arms, gazing down at him like Will’s his entire world, and ends the night in awkward, eager kisses from his son that grow bolder as the calendar pages turn. Does he confront the issue now, or is it something Hannibal will eventually grow out of? Will hopes it’s the latter.

*

One evening, while Hannibal is away at school, Will puts his hair back with a headband, slips on his fuzziest robe, and busies himself by making a makeshift nest on the living room couch to keep his hands occupied, and by extension, his thoughts. The house is too quiet, too empty with Hannibal gone, opening doors in Will’s mind he’s too afraid to wander. He needs a good distraction, and a glass of whiskey seems to do the trick.

Halfway through it, he finds himself on Facebook.

**Will Graham**

Looking for advice. 14 yr old Alpha son won’t leave nest, still scent-feeding. Is this normal?

Comments:

Oh, sweetie, mine didn’t wanna leave the nest til he left for college lol

You need to wean him off the scent-feeding now or he will just keep doing it… Scent marking from another alpha might help discourage him from doing it

My alpha son is clingier than my omega, I think it’s normal, especially before rut

You need an alpha who will help discipline him

Poor baby is going into rut soon, no wonder!! Don’t worry he will grow out of it

Will takes another swig of dark amber, massaging his chewed up gland with the back of his hand as he scrolls through the messages in his inbox. His whole neck is decorated in faded purple and red marks, some snaking down into his collar. He’s gotten used to the pain, but some days have him reaching for the aspirin, and recently, Hannibal’s started using teeth.

_This sure as hell doesn’t feel normal._

But, according to the parent group for single Omegas, it's not uncommon for Alpha children to fall into codependent habits when their instincts emerge, and Hannibal is around that age. He needs guidance now more than anything, a gentle hand to help soothe the sudden influx of hormones. Scent-feeding and scent-marking are a natural, healthy form of exploration, and can even be beneficial in cases of pre-rut aggression. Will finds some reassurance there, other mothers with similar worries easing his fears.

Will checks the time at the bottom corner of the laptop screen and sighs. It's the fifth time he's caught himself doing it, all in the span of two minutes. Some days, the loneliness is unbearable. His feet move on their own, pacing up and down the stairs while he cries out for Hannibal (his pup, always his pup) with mournful little whines, compulsively scent-marking the places Hannibal frequents, stealing his shirts from the laundry pile and adding them to his nest. It’s pathetic. _Cute_ , says Hannibal. _You're so cute, mama._ Will warms at the memory, bites down on the rim of his glass before tossing it back. The alcohol has him loose and giddy. Funny, he doesn't remember polishing off that much, but the bottle suggests otherwise.

The warmth eventually travels downward, and Will gives his thighs a good squeeze. Booze has a habit of making him horny, and how long has it been since he's touched himself, anyway? Decided, he pushes the laptop from his legs and spreads them, a thick bead of slick wetting his panties. He has enough time before school lets out for something nice and quick. Thick knots and slick pussies fill the laptop screen with a few mouse clicks, pretty Omegas whimpering and mewling to be bred, and Will catches himself whining alongside them, imagining it was him. He'd present so well, so good for his Alpha. If only they'd give him a chance. 

“Mama, I’m home,” Hannibal’s voice calls out from the doorway, drawing a surprised chirp from Will when he catches him with his legs wide open, hand frozen between them, nested in the couch with a half-finished bottle of whiskey at his side and “breed me, breed me, Alpha!” coming from his laptop. 

"Jesus." Cheeks burning, Will slams his legs and his laptop shut, clutches the front of his robe, and clears his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” says Hannibal. If he smells or notices anything strange about Will's behavior, he doesn’t show it, just shrugs off his bag and crawls straight into Will’s lap, loosening the top buttons of his shirt.

“No, no. I’m happy. I just… didn’t expect you to be home so early.” Will laughs nervously, pushing the hair from Hannibal's forehead and kissing it. “Why didn’t you call? I could have gone to pick you up.”

“The Du Maurier’s offered to drive me, and I wanted to surprise you.” He plucks the glass from where it had tipped over onto the cushions and sets it upright on the coffee table. "What's this? What did you do while I was gone? You never drink." Hannibal points out, scenting him with a small chuff. "Was today a special occasion?"

"Am I being interrogated?" Will gives him a half-hearted smile, eyes darting to the side. He's never been good at hiding things from Hannibal. "It was just a little something to pass the time. Didn't have any chores left and figured, hey, that's worth celebrating, right?"

Hannibal hums. "You look beautiful today, mama."

Will rolls his eyes, cheeks flushing deeper from the alcohol. "...my hair's a mess and I look like I just woke up, but thank you."

"You're always beautiful to me," says Hannibal, leaning forward and tilting his head, eager breath ghosting over Will's cupid bow. It feels wrong, especially knowing what Hannibal had just walked in on. He's still _slick_.

"You're getting a bit too heavy for this." Will turns his head to the side, dodging his lips at the last second, nudging his legs up for emphasis. He plays it off with a laugh. But Hannibal is persistent when it comes to reaping Will's affection, playing his guilt like a well-tuned piano, and Will, without fail, lets him. 

"Mama." Hannibal pouts. He paws open the front of Will's robe where all Will has on underneath is a thin tank top and shorts, and sits back, admiring the marks he'd put there. The darkest ones from the previous night. "Please?"

“You’re not a pup anymore.” Will tries, he really does, but there’s not much conviction in his voice. 

“It hurts,” Hannibal _whines_. “Here and here,” he adds, pointing to his teeth, then the swollen bundle of glands just below his jaw. 

Will draws in a slow breath.

“Oh, baby, they're just growing in, that's all,” he croons, rubbing circles on Hannibal’s back. There’s nothing worse than seeing his poor pup in pain. "Do you want some aspirin?"

Hannibal shakes his head, gaze dropping to his neck. "I need you, mama."

How is Will supposed to say no to _that_?

"Alright," Will sighs, slumping back into the couch and baring his neck. He worries he’s a lot drunker than he'd thought when the ceiling spins overhead, but that’s quickly forgotten when Hannibal chases him, nose burrowing into his scent gland with a deep rumble, both of them settling into their usual routine. "Just for a little bit, and then I have to go make dinner, 'kay?" 

Hannibal makes a pleased sound, biting down in his excitement, and Will gives him a nip of his own in warning. "Not so hard, I'm still sore from last night. Here—" He shifts them around, laying back into his nest, pulling Hannibal down on top of him. He wasn't kidding, Hannibal is a lot heavier, but it's more comfortable this way.

Hannibal melts over him, purring and suckling at his gland, lapping it in apology, and Will happily accepts it.

"Mm'tickles," Will purrs, nuzzling into his son’s sweet warmth and kneading his back. It feels good being needed this way. 

“I love you, mommy,” Hannibal purrs, sharp teeth rolling possessively over his mother's unmarked neck. He runs a hand over Will's hip and dips his fingers under his tank top, pushing it up below his slight breasts as he gazes down at him with rut-red puppy eyes. A thumb brushes over his left nipple, and Will makes a weak sound of protest and grabs his wrist.

“Hannibal…” Not baby, but Hannibal. “Stop.”

"Don't you love me?" Hannibal rasps out a growl, free hand twisting in his mother’s dark curls and tugging, hips anchoring down. Will goes rigid, lips parting around a whine, his lower half instinctively arching up to meet his son’s.

There’s no mistaking it. As much as he wants to pretend the hardness digging into him is just part of his drunk and overactive imagination, when Hannibal’s lips meet his, tongue licking into his parted lips, and Will tastes his own overwhelmingly sweet pheromones on his tongue, there’s no mistaking it. Hannibal is hard, because of him. 

"I-I'm, I do love you, but—" Will shudders, mind screaming.

_He’s your son._

"What are you doing?" Will gasps, scooting out from under him and jumping to his feet. He yanks his tank top past his breasts and holds it there, cheeks tinged with red.

“Hannibal.” He swallows, wondering where the hell to even begin. “This is… wrong. I know you’re nearing Alphahood and you’re experiencing new urges, but this isn’t something you do with your parents. If you feel like you need to... to, do _that_ , you do it in private.”

"I don't care. I want to do it with you." Hannibal sits up, face unnervingly blank. "Why can't we? We do everything together, so why not this?"

“Why—” Will falters, trying and failing to grasp words. Hannibal is typically well-behaved. He isn't in the habit of questioning Will or talking back, so this takes him completely off guard. Finally, he settles on, "Because." His voice hitches high. "I'm your mother. I shouldn't have to tell you why, you're smart enough to know that.”

"But it felt good, didn't it? I know it felt good to you, too, mama. I’ve never smelled anything more beautiful, so sweet." Hannibal’s hand seeks his and Will flinches backward, denying him. The hurt that flickers across Hannibal's face is enough to break Will's resolve, but he needs to be firm and put his foot down.

_It's your fault for smelling so sweet._

"No." Will inhales sharply, chest burning as he struggles to hold back tears—the urge to lash out and scream. _Don’t say that._ "It didn't."

"Go to your room. Now." He grits through his teeth, instead, trembling. The slick on his inner thighs has gone tacky; Will shudders visibly in disgust. "I've been too lenient with you, and I see that now. That ends today, understand?"

"Yes, mother," Hannibal says sedately, bowing his head in submission.

Only when the door has shut and his son's footsteps have receded does Will drop to his knees at the side of the couch in tears, head meeting the cushion with a soft thump. 

He's a good boy. He means well, he does.

_I'm the one who's fucked up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Matthew/Will in the next chapter.


End file.
